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A  Christmas  Tale:  in 
One  Act :  by  Maurice 
Bouchor:  Translated  by 
arrett  H.  Clark 


muel  French:  Publisher 

|28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  Street  :   New  York 


LONDON 


Samuel  French,  Ltd. 


2Ci     SOUTHAMPTOX      StRKET,      STRANP 


PRICE  TWENTY-FIVE  CENTS, 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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THE   WORLD'S    BEST     PLATS 

BT  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 

BARRETT  H.     CLARK 
QENKRAU    EDITOR 


A  Christmas  Tale:  in 
One  Act :  by  Maurice 
Vouchor:  Translated  by 
Barrett  H.  Clark 


Samuel  French:  Publisher 

28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  Street :   New  York 

LONDON 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 


26    Southampton    Street,    Strand 


,I1> 


1.ci' 


COPl-RIGHT.  1915. 
BY  SAMUEL  FRENCH 


^^.y^U^ iQ      ^*t^.      li^L     ^^ih^U^  ^(    (jU^  ^y4^ 


MAURICE  BOUCHOR. 

Maurice  Bouchor  was  born  at  Paris  in  1855, 
Bouclior  is  a  dramatic  poet  of  rare  inspiration  and 
tragic  depth.  His  best-known  long  plays,  "  Tobie," 
"  Noel,"  and  "  Les  Mysteres  d'Eleusis,"  are,  in  the 
words  of  an  eminent  French  critic,  "  among  the  most 
beautiful  works  of  our  time."  "  Conte  de  Noel " — 
"  A  Christmas  Tale,"  here  translated  for  the  first 
time  into  English — is  a  charming  little  dramatic 
episode.  It  was  first  performed  at  the  Comedie 
Franqaise,  in  Paris,  in  1895. 

This  play  may  be  elaborately  staged,  but  the  de- 
tailed stage-directions  need  not  be  faithfully  adhered 
to.  The  simplest  of  interiors  and  costumes  may  be 
used. 


3 

M203811 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

Saint  Nicholas 
Saint  Rose 

Pierre  Coeur A  sculptor 

Jacqueline His  zvife 

Rosette Their  little  girl,  asleep  in  her  cradle 

Scene  :^-^  room  in  the  home  of  Pierre  Coeur, 
Paris. 

Time: — The  Fifteenth  Century. 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE 


Scene  : — A  room  of  considerable  size,  serving  at 
once  as  living-room  and  studio.  Everything  is 
simple,  clean,  and  neat.  To  the  right  are 
wooden  statues  of  various  kinds,  some  painted 
in  bright  colors,  but  most  of  them  unfinished. 
Strewn  about  the  floor  are  pieces  of  zvood,  large 
blocks,  and  the  like,  together  zvith  chisels 
and  other  implements.  The  statues  of  Saint 
Nicholas  and  Saint  Rose — actors  dressed  to 
represent  them — stand  dozvn-stage  to  the  right, 
close  to  each  other.  Saint  Nicholas  is  an  old 
man  zvith  a  zvhiie  beard,  who  zvears  the  rich 
costume  of  a  bishop;  Saint  Rose,  little  more 
than  a  child,  zvith  roses  in  her  hair,  is  dressed 
like  a  saint  of  Fra  Angelico.  There  is  a 
door  to  the  right,  just  behind  these  statues.  To 
the  left  is  a  large  fire-place,  in  zvhich  are  dying 
embers;  tzvo  children's  shoes  lie  on  the  hearth- 
stone. Nearby  is  the  cradle — hung  with  cur- 
tains— in  zvhich  Utile  Rose  is  sleeping.  At  the 
center  of  the  stage  is  a  table,  zvith  a  meal  set 
on  it,  and  a  chair  on  either  side.  Through  a 
bay-wind ozv  at  the  back  are  seen  the  silhouette 
of  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  and  the  roofs 
of  houses  covered  zvith  snoiv.  It  is  night,  and 
a  few  stars  are  out.  On  the  mantel  above  the 
fire-place  burns  a  candle;  two  other  candles, 
half -burnt,  are  on  the  table.  As  the  curtain 
rises,  Jacqueline  is  seated  on  a  chair.  She  sits 
listening  to  a  church  bell  zvhich  strikes  five. 
Then  she  rises. 

5 


'6  '''  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Jacqueline. — 
'Tis  five  o'clock,  and  Pierre  is  still  away. 
I  thought  I  heard  his  step — but  'twas  not  his ! 
]\Iy  dear  good  husband,  once  so  kind,  neglects 
And  leaves  me  all  alone.    Is  it  his  fault  ? 
What  most  I  fear  is  that  his  weakness  will 
Destroy  him !    Now  no  doubt  he  sits  and  drinks 
In  some  low  wine-shop :  thus  he  spends  his  nights. 
My  Pierre !    My  genius  !    Lord  in  Heaven,  hear ! 

(She  looks  at  Rosette's  shoes  by  the  hearth.) 

I  fear  he'll  bring  no  presents  for  Rosette 

Her  Christmas  will  be  sad  without  her  toys. 

He  wanted  so  to  buy  some  toy  to  make 

Her  little  eyes  grow  wide  with  wonder.    See, 

The  tiny  shoes  stand  empty  Christmas  morn, 

And  seem  to  say  :    "  Has  Christmas  passed  us  by  ?  " 

(A  pause.) 

He  took  his  mantle  with  him,  he  was  going 

To  Notre  Dame  for  midnight  Mass.    How  tenderly 

He  kissed   me,   when  he   told   me,   "  Good  night, 

dear!" 
I  thought  he  would  be  hungry,  so  I  put 
A  goodly  supper  on  the  table,  while  the  fire 
Glowed  bright,  and  through  the  windows  I  could  see 
The  lights  of  Notre  Dame,  and  hear  the  organ 
And  the  choir.    My  heart  was  light  with  joy 
At  thought  of  his  return,  when  we  might  talk 
And  I  might  influence  and  make  him  good : 
I  understand  him  and  can  soothe  him  well. 
Now  statues  occupy  him  more  than  I. 
For  days  and  days  his  silence  is  unbearable 

(She  looks  at  the  statues  of  Saint  Nicholas  and 
Saint  Rose.) 

Yet  I  am  proud  of  these  wood  images 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  7 

My  Pierre  is  no  mere  artisan  or  'prentice ; 
He  cuts  a  living  face  from  living  oak. 
1  must  stand  back  and  silently  admire, 
Stand  mute  with  fear.    His  art  is  wife  and  child 
For  him.    How  sad  I  am  that  the  lost  hours 
Spent  at  the  inn  cannot  be  mine !    Oh,  God ! 

(She  kneels  before  the  statues.) 

Monsieur  Saint  Nicholas,  Madame  Saint  Rose, 
You  whom  my  Pierre  has  graven,  pardon  me 
If  I  dare  speak  to  you — I  suffer  so ! 
You've  always  been  so  good,  so  kind  to  me ! 
Ah,  Saints  of  Paradise,  give  back  my  Pierre. 
Comfort,  console  me,  if  you  value  him ! 

(She  rises.) 

He's  not  yet  home.    I  am  so  tired  out ! 

(She  goes  to  Rosette's  cradle  and  looks  at  the  sleep- 
ing child.) 

She  sleeps  a  sound  soft  sleep.    Oh,  may  God  grant 
That  I  be  spared  you,  little  one,  my  sweet ! 

(She  turns  toward  Saint  Rose.) 

I  give  her  to  your  keeping  while  I  rest. 
To  you,  her  patron  saint. 

(She  looks  again  at  Rosette.) 

I  dare  not  kiss  her. 
She  must  sleep  on  in  peace. — Now  will  I  lay 
A  pillow  for  her. 

(She  carefully  arranges  the  pillow  in  the  cradle.) 


8  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Sleep  in  peace,  my  dear! 

(A  pause.) 

Shall  I?    Dare  I?    Yes,  I  must. 

{She  kisses  Rosette.) 

There,  my  child. 

(Slie  sits  in  a  chair  at  some  distance  from  the 
cradle,  closes  her  eyes,  and  is  soon  fast  asleep. 
A  moment  later  she  speaks  as  in  a  dream.) 

I  see  her  now  the  day  she  was  baptized, 
I  have  not  smiled  so  much  since  that  glad  time. 
My  Pierre  forgets  me,  spends  his  nights  away 
In  drinking 

{A  rather  long  pause.) 

Dear  Saint  Nicholas,  I  pray, 
Oh,  give  me  rest — make  me  forget  awhile 

{The  Statue  of  Saint  Nicholas  moves.  A  bright 
light  floods  the  room.  Saint  Nicholas 
comes  slozvly  toward  Jacqueline,  and  extends 
a  hand  to  her.) 

t 
Saint  Nicholas. — 
Poor  creature ! 
Jacqueline. — 

What,  was  I  asleep  ?    Protect  me ! 

{She  falls  asleep  again.  Saint  Nicholas  looks  at 
her,  smiling  benignantly,  then  turns  to  the 
statue  of  Saint  Rose.) 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Rose,  Rose!     No  answer   from  her!     Rose,   I'm 
speaking ! 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  9 

You  hear  me?    Come  to  life! 

{He  examines  the  statue,  zvliich  remains  inanimate.) 
'Tis  surely  she ! 

{He  turns  round  facing  the  audience,  ivhile  the 
statue  of  Saint  Rose  begins  to  move.  She 
quietly  zvalks  toivard  Saint  Nicholas  and 
listens  to  him.) 

From  Heaven  have  we  come  to  save  Jacques  Coeur. 
He  'graved  my  image  for  the  joy  it  gave  him, 
No  gain  was  his — and  yet  he  leaves  his  wife ! 
I  hope  that  we  can  save  him 

Saint  Rose. — 

Nicholas  ? 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Ah,  Rose!     You're  late. 

Saint  Rose. — 

Because  I've  been  to  see 
The  children  who  have  never  been  baptized 
And  giv'n  them  Christmas  cakes,  and  flow'rs  and 
kisses. 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Rut  the  angels  all  do  that,  my  dear  Saint  Rose, 
And  one  of  them  stands  guard  before  the  gate. 

Saint  Rose. — 
j\nd  pray  what  difference  does  that  make  to  me? 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
But  know  you  not  it  is  forbidden? 

Saint  Rose. — 

Yes 

But  then  I  know  another  door. 

Saint  Nicholas. — {Alarmed) 
Ah,  Rose ! 

Saint  Rose. — 
It's  time,  I  say,  these  poor  young  souls  below 
Breathed  Heaven's  air  and  played  with  angels 

Saint  Nicholas. — 


10  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Ah, 
You're  daring,  little  Rose,  you  should  be  sent 

To  play  with  dolls.     The  Lord  forbids 

Saint  Rose. — 

The  Lord 
Is  not  so  strict  as  you  would  have  me  think. 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
I'll  say  no  more,  then.    Tell  me,  now,  where  are 
The  toys  you  should  have  brought — Where  are  they, 
Rose? 
Saint  Rose. — 
I've  given  them  already,  to  the  poor! 
Saint  Nicholas. — 

But  here 

Saint  Rose. — 
I  pray  you,  be  not  angry  with  me. 
I'll  go  at  once  to  Heaven  and  bring  more. 

{She  goes  out.) 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
By  all  the  twelve  Apostles,  I  declare 
She  treats  me  like  a  grandpapa — Ah,  well ! 

(He  catches  sight  of  the  table.) 

Now  what  is  this  ?    A  supper  ?    Were  I  not 
Well  nourished  on  the  manna  of  the  angels 

I  should  be  hungry — aye,  and  thirsty  too 

God  bless  this  meal. 

Jacqueline. —  {Half -asleep) 

Is  that  you,  Pierre?    Not  yet 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Her  heart  is  weary — sleep  again,  my  child, 
I  watch  and  will  give  comfort  to  your  soul. 
I  heard  your  prayer  ere  it  left  your  lips. 
And  Rose  smiled  through  her  tears.    For  you 
We've  come  to  life.    Sleep  now,  for  greater  joy 
Is  soon  to  come  to  you. 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  ii 

(Jacqufxine  sighs  and  then  falls  into  a  peaceful 
sleep.  Enter  Saint  Rose,  loaded  down  zvith 
toys.) 

Saint  Rose. — 

Just  see  these  toys ! 
Saint  Nicholas. — (Looking  at  the  toys) 
How  Rosette's  heart  will  beat ! 

(Saint  Rose  kneels  before  the  hearth  and  lays  the 
toys  about  her.  She  speaks  the  following  lines 
as  she  arranges  the  toys.) 

Saint  Rose. — 

Just  see  this  green  one ! 

You'll  have  to  go  in  this  shoe — Now,  the  other 

Here's  Saint  Cecilia  playing  on  her  organ, 

And  here  three  angels. — Saint  Medard,  come  here. 

And  next  to  old  Saint  Anthony,  a  pig. 

And  now  this  little  cake,  an  angel  made  it 

With  his  Heav'n-bright  hands ;  celestial  roses 

Are  wreath'd  upon  it — leave  it  in  the  box ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
That's  all,  I  think? 

Saint  Rose. — (Rising) 

They're  pretty,  are  they  not? 
Those  little  people  all  arranged  so  proudly? 

(Going  to  Rosette's  cradle.) 
I'll  look  at  her 

(She  opens  the  curtains  of  the  cradle.) 

How  sweetly  does  she  sleep! 
I  wonder  if  I  looked  that  way  at  three  ? 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Ah,  Rose,  what  vanity! 
Saint  Rose. — 

That's  true. — Enough  ! 

(She  pulls  the  curtains  to.) 


12  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Our  presents  will  bring  joy  to  them,  I  know. 

Saint  Rose. — (Listening) 
I  thought  I  heard ? 

Saint  Nicholas. — 

What,  Rose? 

Saint  Rose. — 


Saint  Nicholas. — 
Yes,  I  hear  him  too 


The  father  coming 


(Saint  Nicholas  and  Saint  Rose  resume  their 
statuesque  attitude,  standing  in  front  of  the 
hearth,  hiding  the  toys.  The  bright  light  dies 
out.  Enter  Pierre.  He  has  evidently  been 
drinking.) 

Pierre. — : 
It's  me — Ho,  Jacqueline — it's  not  my  fault ! 

I  didn't  really  want  to  stay,  but  friends 

How  late  is  it? 

(Without  waiting  for  an  anszver,  and  not  seeing 
Jacqueline  as  she  lies  asleep,  he  falls  heavily 
into  a  chair.) 

Ah,  Saints  of  Heaven,  help! 
I  have  not  drunk  so  much  since  Trinity ! 

(He  sees  Jacqueline.) 

You're  not  in  bed  yet  ? 

(He  rises  and  goes  to  her.) 

Sleeping?     Poor  Jacqueline! 
After  the  Mass  in  Notre  Dame  I  said: 
"  Go  home — don't  see  your   friends — ^you'll  drink 
too  much 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  13 

You  know  that  Jacqueline,  your  wife,  will  weep. 
Not  home  on  Christmas  Eve  would  be  too  bad." 
And  yet  I  went  to  the  inn 

(A  pause.) 

Good  Lord,  what  then? 
The  rascals  were  amusing,  and  that  Gringoire, 
The  clever  chap,  a  poet  too,  was  there ; 
I  could  not  get  away. — Now  to  my  saints- 


I  rather  like  Saint  Nick,  and  Rose  too,  she 

(He  raises  his  head  and  to  his  surprise  finds  that 
the  statues  are  not  in  their  accustomed  posi- 
tion.) 

They  stood  there  when  I  left — I  said  Good-night 
The  last  thing  to  them 

(He  looks  around  the  room.) 

I'm  bewitched,  I  know ! 

(Clasping  his  hands  in  terror.) 

Dear  Saints  of  Heaven,  show  yourselves,  I  pray! 

(He  noiv  sees  the  statues.) 

Ah,  now  I  see  you,  statues  of  my  love, 
My  masterpieces 

(Noticing  their  changed  position.) 

Why,  you've  moved,  I  see ! 
Saint  Nicholas. — 
'Tis  time  to  speak. 

(The  light  re-appears.) 


14  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Pierre. — 

Dear  Lord,  how  light  it  is ! 
The  moonhght  floods  the  room  from  end  to  end ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Pierre  Coeur! 

Pierre. — (Trembling) 

Who  spoke  my  name  ? 
Saint  Nicholas. — 

I. 
Pierre. — (Terrified) 

What,  my  statue? 

(Putting  his  Jmnd  to  his  forehead  and  speaking  to 
himself. ) 

And  yet  my  eyes  are  open — who  mocks  me  ? 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
I  am  Saint  Nicholas  himself,  Pierre  Coeur. 

Pierre. — 

You  are ?! 

(Falling  to  his  knees.) 

Forgive  me,  oh  forgive  me,  holy  Saint ! 

(He  hides  his  face  in  his  hands.) 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Are  you  not  filled  with  Shame,  Pierre  Coeur,  to 

spend 
Your  nights  in  drinking,  while  your  poor  wife  sits 
And  counts  the  hours  by  herself,  alone? 
You  kill  your  body  and  your  soul  with  men 
\Vho  fear  nor  God  nor  devil — you,  a  genius ! 
God  made  of  you  an  artist  and  you  seek 
To  kill  the  gift  that  is  not  yours  to  kill. 

Pierre. — 
Oh,  pardon  me ! 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  15 

Saint  Nicholas. — 

Then  Jacqueline,  your  wife, 
Your  child  Rosette,  you  have  forgot  them. 
Pierre. — 

I? 
Saint  Nicholas. — 
YouVe  passed  the  night  amid  the  fumes  of  wine, 
But  did  you  bring  your  child  a  single  toy  ? 

Pierre. — {In  despair) 
I  did  not ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — 

When  she  wakes  up  in  the  morning 
And  looks  for  toys  and  presents,  she  will  find 
Nothing  at  all — not  even  one  poor  orange ! 
What   will   you   tell   her?     That   the    Christ-child 

failed 
To  come  here,  busied  as  he  was  with  others'  toys? 

Pierre. — 
Oh,  pity  me ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — (Gently) 

Does  that  thought  make  you  sober  ? 

Come  here,  we  have  for  you  a  sweet  surprise. 

(Pierre  rises.) 

If  you  will  promise  on  your  honor,  Pierre, 
Never  to  drink  as  you  have  drunk  to-night, 
I  will  repair  your  fault  this  instant.  Come, 
I  see  you  are  repentant,  tell  me,  novi'  ? 

Pierre. — ( So!  em  nly ) 
T  promise  never  to  touch  wine  again ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — (Good-naturedly) 
So  much  I  would  not  ask  of  you. 
You  may  drink,  but  in  moderation,  that 
Is  good  and  cheery,  but  with  JacqueHne 
You  must  remain  at  home  and  drink. 

Pierre. — 

I  will. 

Saint  Rose. — 
I  know  he  will. 


i6  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Pierre. — 

I've  sinned ;  my  heart  is  torn. 
Saint  Rose. — 
No  sadness  now,  or  I  shall  leave.    Now  see. 

{She  shows  him  the  toys.) 

Pierre. — 
What's  this? 

(He  goes  to  the  fire-place,  kneels  and  examines  the 
toys,  zvhich  he  admires.) 

Saint  Nicholas. —  (To  Jacqueline,  zvho  is  still 
asleep ) 

Saint  Rose  and  I,  while  you  were  sleeping. 
Have  taken  care  of  you  and  yours.     Awake, 
Dear  Jacqueline,  and  let  your  heart  be  free. 

(Jacqueline  opens  her  eyes,  and  rises.) 

Jacqueline. — 
Oh,  dear  Saint  Nicholas,  you  have  kept  watch ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — 
Saint  Rose  and  I. 

Saint  Rose. — (Pointing  to  Pierre) 

Look,  Jacqueline,  he  is  happy ! 

(Jacqueline  sees  Pierre,  absorbed  in  examining 
the  toys.) 

Jacqueline. — 
To  you  I  owe  this  happiness.  Saint  Rose. 

Saint  Rose. — 
I  looked  at  dear  Rosette ;  that's  my  reward. 

Pierre. — (To  himself) 
The  angel  who  carved  this  knows  well  his  trade. 

Saint  Rose. — (To  Jacqueline) 
Now  speak  to  him. 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  17 

Pierre.     {To  himself) 

I  should  be  proud  myself 

Jacqueline. — 
You're  home  at  last,  Pierre  ? 

(Pierre  rises  quickly,  turns,  sees  his  zvife,  then 
looks  at  the  floor,  ashamed.) 

Pierre. — 

Yes,  I  just  came  in. 
Jacqueline. — {Pointing  to  the  toys) 
But  where  did  you  find  all  these  toys,  my  dear? 

i 
(Pierre  is  embarrassed  and  does  not  answer.) 

Saint  Rose. — 
Poor  Pierre,  he's  blushing ! 

Pierre. — 

Dear,  I  am  ashamed. 
I  have  neglected  you,  while  day  by  day 
You  sat  in  silent  sadness,  saying  nothing ; 
At  night  you  waited  for  me  while  I  drank  too  deep. 
When  I  came  home  you  did  not  say  a  word. 
Not  one  reproach.    I  should  fall  to  my  knees 
And  ask  forgiveness.     Dear  dear  wife,  how  cruel 
I  was,  and  what  I've  made  you  suffer,  dear 

Saint  Rose. — 
One  kiss  means  more  to  her  than  pardons  asked. 

Jacqueline. — 
The  past  have  I  forgotten ;  now  I'm  happy. 

Pierre. — 
You  do  forgive  me,  then  ?    You  pardon  me  ? 

Jacqueline. — {Smiling) 
Oh,  yes ! 

Pierre. — 

And  will  forget  all  else? 

Jacqueline. — 

I  will. 
Pierre,  doubt  it  not. 


i8  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Pierre. — 

My  life  from  now  on  will 
Be  spent  in  loving  you. 

{He  kisses  Jacqueline's  hands.) 

Saint  Nicholas. —  (To  Saint  Rose)    ' 
Come  Rose,  they're  tired ; 
See,  daylight's  coming,  and  they  must  have  rest. 

Saint  Rose. —  (Looking  at  Pierre) 
See,  Nicholas,  he's  crying ! 

Saint  Nicholas. — 

Yes,  in  Heaven 
There  is  rejoicing ;  love  and  hope  have  come 
Once  more.    The  Christ  is  born  and  Mary  sits 
Smiling  at  Him.    Let  peace  be  upon  earth ! 

(Sounds  of  a  choir  are  heard.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments, Saint  Nicholas  looks  smilingly  at 
Saint  Rose.) 

We  must  return,  Rose,  to  our  places  there. 

(They  stand  as  statues  where  they  stood  at  first.) 

God  bless  this  place !    Farewell,  and  rest  in  peace ! 

(The  light  dies  out  and  the  music  stops.  The 
statues  are  immobile.  Gradually  the  daylight 
creeps  in  at  the  zvindow.  Pierre  and  Jacque- 
line azvake.  They  look  about  in  astonishment, 
then  look  at  the  statues.) 

Pierre. — 
They  stand  there  as  before.    They  have  not  moved ! 

(Pierre  and  Jacqueline  go  to  the  statues,  and 
kneel  before  them.) 


A  CHRISTMAS  TALE.  19 

Jacqueline. — 
Dear  saints,  you've  wiped  away  my  tears. 

Pierre. — 
You  have  brought  joy  to  this  our  humble  home. 

Jacqueline. — {To  Pierre) 
You'll  keep  your  promise  ? 

Pierre. — 

Yes,  dear,  it  is  sacred ! 

Jacqueline. — 
ril  think  no  more  about  it. 

Pierre. — 

I  could  not 
Offend  my  friends  the  saints. 

Jacqueline. — 

See  what  I  have  for  you. 

(She  shozvs  him  the  supper  on  the  table.) 

Pierre. — 
The  table  set? 
Jacqueline. — 

It's  simple,  dear,  but  good, 
It's  your  reward. 
Pierre. — (Touched) 

My  dearest  Jacqueline ! 
Jacqueline. — 
You  are  not  hungry,  Pierre?     Come,  tell  me,  are 
you? 
Pierre. — 
This  meal  is  blessed  by  Heaven ;  I  shall  eat. 
But  first,  a  kiss 

(He  kisses  her.) 

Jacqueline. —  (Pointing  to  Rosette's  cradle) 
We  must  speak  softly,  now ! 

(She  takes  a  step  tozvard  the  cradle,  but  Pierre  de- 
tains her.) 


20  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE. 

Pierre. — 
She  sleeps  as  softly  as  a  bird  at  night. 

Jacqueline. — 
Then  let  us  eat  at  once,  I  want  to  be 
With  our  Rosette  when  first  she  wakens  up ; 
Her  joy  must  be  ours  too. 

Pierre. — 

It  will.    Sit  down, 
And  later,  rest. 

Jacqueline. — 

We  must  not  miss  High  Mass. 

Pierre. — (As  they  sit  down  at  the  table) 
No,  we  shall  go  together,  and  thank  God 
For  this  our  happiness. 

(The  red  of  the  rising  sun  has  touched  the  towers 
of  Notre  Dame,  zvhich  are  seen  through  the 
window  at  the  hack.) 

CURTAIN. 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  PLAYS 

By    Celebrated    l^uropean    Authors 


A  NEW  SERIES  OF  AMATEUR  PLAYS   BY   THE   BEST 
AUTHORS,   ANCIENT   AND   MODERN,   ESPECIALLY 
TRANSLATED  WITH  HISTORICAL  NOTES,  SUG- 
GESTIONS   FOR   STAGING,    Etc.,   FOR   THE 
USE    OF    SCHOOLS,    COLLEGES,     AND 
DRAMATIC  CLUBS 

*      BARRETT    H.     CLARK 

General    Editor 


ITH  the    immensely    increased  demand  for  new 
plays  for  purposes   of  production   by   amateurs 

W  comes  a  correspondingly  great  demand  for  a  care- 

ful selection  of  tiiose  plays  which  can  ba  easily 
and  well  presented  by  clubs  and  collegres.  The 
plays  in  the  present  series  have  been  chosen  with 
regard  to  their  intrinsic  value  as  drama  and  liter- 
ature, and  at  the  same  time  to  their  adaptability  to  the  needs  and 
limitations  of  such  organizations. 

The  Series,  under  the  personal  supervision  of  Mr.  Barrett  H. 
Clark,  instructor  in  the  department  of  Dramatic  Literature  at 
Chautauqua,  New  York,  assistant  stage  manager  and  actor  with 
Mrs.  Fiske  (season  1912-1913),  now  comprises  ten  volumes,  and  fifteen 
more  will  make  their  appearance  during  the  year.  Eventually 
there  will  be  plays  from  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  Italy.  Spain, 
France,  Russia.  Germany,  and  the  Scandinavian  countries,  repre- 
sentative of  some  of  the  best  drama  of  all  ageg  and  lands. 

Each  volume  is  prefaced  by  a  concise  historical  note  by  Mr.  Olarlt- 
and  with  a  few  suggestions  for  staging. 


Plays    Nov    Ready 

ITfDIAN  SUMMER,  a  comedy  in  one  act  by  Mxilh^o  and 
Halevt.  This  little  play,  by  two  of  the  most  f  amom  irriters  of 
comedy  of  the  last  century,  hajs  been  played  at  the  GomSdie  Fran- 
caise  at  Paris  for  upwards  of  forty  years,  and  remains  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  popular  works  of  the  period.  Pbiob  25  C«irrs. 

ROSALIi;,  by  Max  Maurbt.  A  "  Grand  Gui«Tiol "  comedy  in 
one  act,  full  of  rerve  and  clever  dialogue.  Rosalie,  the  stubborn  maid, 
leads  her  none  too  amiable  master  and  mistress  into  uncomfortable 
complications  by  refusing  to  open  the  front  door  to  a  supposed  gue«t 
of  wealth  and  influence.    Pbicb  25  Csitts. 

MODESTY,  by  Paul  Herviktj.  A  delightful  trifle  by  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  of  liring  dramatists.    Priob  25  Ckitts. 

THE  ART  OF  BEING  BORED,  {Lt  Monde  oU  I'on  s^Ifnnuie),  a 

comedy  in  three  acts  by  Edouard  Paillirow.  Probably  the  best- 
known  and  most  f  reauently  acted  comedy  of  manners  in  the  realm 
of  nineteenth  century  French  drama.  It  is  replete  with  wit  and 
comic  situations.  For  nearly  forty  years  it  has  held  the  stage, 
while  countless  imitators  have  endeavored  to  reproduce  its  fresh- 
ness and  charm.    Price  25  Cents. 

A  MARRIAGE  PROPOSAL,  by  Antow  Tchekhoft,  a  comedy 
in  cne  act,  by  one  of  the  greatest  of  modem  Russian  writers.  This 
little  farce  is  very  popular  in  Russia,  and  satirizes  the  peasants  of 
that  country  in  an  amusing  manner.    Pbios  25  Csirrs. 

THE  GREEN  COAT,  by  Alered  de  Mitssbt  and  Emilb  Augies. 
A  slight  and  comic  character  sketch  of  the  life  of  Bohemian  artists 
in  Paris,  written  by  one  of  France's  greatest  poets  and  one  of  her 
best-known  dramatists.    Prick  25  Cents. 

THE    "WAGER,    by    Giuseppe    Giaoosa.    This  one  act  poetic 

comedy,  written  by  the  most  celebrated  dramatist  of  modern  Italy, 
was  the  author's  first  work.  It  treats  of  a  wager  made  by  a  proud 
young  page,  who  risks  his  life  on  the  outcome  of  a  game  of  cheas. 
Pbicb  25  Cents. 


THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERDESS,  a  poetic  comedy  In  one  act, 
by  Andke  Rivoike.  A  charming  pastoi-al  sketch  by  a  well-known 
French  poet  and  dramatist.  Played  with  success  at  the  Com^die 
Francaise.    Piuce  25  Cents. 

PHORMIO,  a  Latin  comedy  by  Terence.  An  up-to-date  version 
of  the  famous  comedy.  One  of  the  masterpieces  of  Latin  drama: 
the  story  of  a  father  who  returns  to  find  that  his  son  has  married 
a  slave  girl.  Phormio,  the  parasite-villain  who  causes  the  numerous 
comic  complications,  succeeds  in  unraveliufir  the  diflSculties,  and 
all  ends  happily.    Price  25  Cents. 

THE  TWINS,  a  Latin  farce  by  Plautus,  upon  which  Shake- 
speare founded  his  Comedy  of  Errors.    Price  25  Cents. 

THE  BOOR,  by  Anton  Tohekoff.  A  well-known  farce  by  the 
celebrated  Russian  master;  It  Is  concerned  with  Russian  peasants, 
and  portrays  with  masterly  skill  the  comic  side  of  country  life. 
Price  25  Cents. 

THE  SLACK  PEARL,  by  Victorien  Sardoti.  One  of  Sardou's 
most  famous  comedies  of  Intrigue.  A  house  has,  it  is  thought, 
been  robbed.  But  through  skilful  investigation  it  Is  found  that  the 
havoc  wrought  has  been  done  by  lightning.    Price  25  Cents. 

CHARMING   LE ANDRE,   by  Theodore  de  Banville.    The 

author  of  "  Gringoire  "  is  here  seen  In  a  poetic  vein,  yet  the  French- 
man's innate  sense  of  humor  recalls,  in  this  satirical  little  play,  the 
genius  of  Moliere.    Price  25  Cents. 

THE  POST-SCRIPTUM,  by  Emile  AuGiER.  Of  this  one-act 
comedy  Professor  Brander  Matthews  writes:  "...  one 
of  the  brightest  and  most  brilliant  little  one-act  comedies  in  any 
language,  and  to  be  warmly  recommended  to  American  readers." 
Price  25  Cents. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  FOURCHAMBAULT,  by  Emile  Augier. 
One  of  the  greatest  of  recent  French  family  dramas.  Although  the 
play  is  serious  In  tone,  it  contains  touches  which  entitle  It  to  a 
position  among  the  best  comedies  of  manners  of  the  times.  Pricb 
25  Cents. 


THE   DOCTOR   Ilf  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF,  by  MOLIRRB.    A 

famous  farce  by  the  greatest  of  French  dramatists.  Sganarelle  has 
to  be  beaten  before  he  will  acknowledgre  that  he  is  a  doctor,  which 
he  is  not.  He  then  works  apparently  miraculous  cures.  The  play 
Is  a  sharp  satire  on  the  medical  profession  in  the  17th  Century. 
Pbibk  25  Cents. 

BRIGNOL  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER,  by  Capus.  The  first 
comedy  in  English  of  the  most  sprightly  and  satirical  of  present- 
day  French  dramatists.    Price  25  Cents. 

CHOOSIP7G  A  CAREER,  by  G.  A.  DB  Caillavet.  Written  by 
one  of  the  authors  of  "  Love  "Watches."  A  farce  of  mistaken 
identity,  full  of  humorous  situations  and  bright  lines.  Pbice  25 
Cents. 

FRENCH  WITHOUT  A  MASTER,  by  Tristan  Bernard.  A 
clever  farce  by  one  of  the  most  successful  of  French  dramatists. 
It  is  concerned  with  the  difficulties  of  a  bogus-interpreter  who 
does  not  know  a  word  of  French.    Price  25  Cents. 

PATER  NOSTER.  a  poetic  play  in  one  act,  by  Francois 
CoppEE.  A  pathetic  incident  of  the  time  of  the  Paris  Commune, 
In  1871.    Price  25  Cents. 

THE  ROMANCERS,  a  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Edmond  Ros- 
tand. New  translation  of  this  celebrated  and  charming  little 
romantic  play  by  the  famous  author  of  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac  "  and 
"Chantecler."    Price  25  Cents. 

THE  MERCHANT  GENTLEMAN.  (Le  Bourgeois  Gentil- 
homme),  by  MotiiERE.  New  translation  of  one  of  Molifire's  comic 
masterpieces,  a  play  which  is  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  amateur 
production.    Price  50  Cents. 


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BERKELEY 

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